


Breakaway

by AlexandraO



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Canonical Character Death, Depression, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 15:43:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20584970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexandraO/pseuds/AlexandraO
Summary: George struggles to come to terms with his twin’s death and leaves England behind looking to heal. When reunited with Hermione, they’ve both remembered how to smile once more.





	Breakaway

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Sing-Me-A-Rare Volume 4. Much love to my Alpha/Beta who shall remain nameless for the moment. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Song Prompt - Breakaway - Kelly Clarkson - Princess Diaries 2

** _Grew up in a small town and when the rain would fall down, I’d just stare out my window_ **

There was a comfort in being home — the smell of shepherd’s pie on Sunday’s and a full English breakfast in the mornings, the feel of crisp, freshly laundered sheets, and the sound of roosters crowing, welcoming the day. 

But, it was just those things that made it unbearable. Everywhere he turned, he was reminded of his brother...his twin...his other half. 

Since the Battle of Hogwarts, George couldn’t find it in himself to return to the flat he shared with Fred above Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. His death was too recent, too new. He couldn’t bear to see Fred’s coffee mug on the counter still half-full of coffee from _ that _ morning or his jacket thrown over the arm of the sofa, having discarded it after a long day in the shop. 

George pulled the quilt up to his chin and burrowed down against his too flat pillow in an attempt to keep Fred’s childhood bed out of sight. He moved his head upwards, blocking it entirely from view, choosing to stare out the window. He had been unable to sleep through the night, as was typical, and although day was breaking, the sun wasn’t in sight. Rain was pelting against the window, steady and unwavering, the opposite of how life was going. 

Making a split-second decision, George threw off the quilt and stood from his bed, his feet cold on the wood floor. He padded down the stairs, careful to skip the creaky steps as to not to wake anyone else from their restless slumber. In nothing but his shorts and a white tee, and not bothering to slip on a pair of shoes, he stumbled out into the yard. Before he could catch it, the door slammed behind him, bouncing off of its frame. He grimaced at the noise and hoped it didn’t wake anyone. 

He slipped on the wet grass a few steps out and landed in a puddle on his knees — he didn’t stand back up. George lifted his head toward the sky, the rain falling against his face. Only then did he let the tears fall — ones he kept in for so long. 

For weeks following the battle, he was angry, in shock, and wondering why he survived and Fred didn’t — survivor’s guilt they called it. He took out his anger on anyone and everything, more often than not drowning his sorrows in a bottle of whiskey down at the local pub. The bartender knew him by name, and his father had gotten quite used to being called down to pick him up, unable to stand from the barstool. 

The reality of Fred’s death hit him like a train, and eventually, his anger faded, turning into something he couldn’t explain. He didn’t cry, or sob into his pillow at night, though he knew his mum did — a silencing charm couldn’t mask her weeping. 

But that wasn’t him. 

He was restless, and when he did find a few moments to sleep, he was plagued with nightmares. He was at the point of exhaustion as the rain showered his face, praying to Merlin it would wash everything away...but he knew. He knew it didn’t work like that and all of the hurt and all of the pain wouldn’t just fade away. 

He had held back the tears for so long trying to be so strong for everyone else. Maybe if they saw that he was okay, the closest person to Fred, then maybe they’d be okay too. But now in this moment, he felt nothing but heartbreak, a sense of overwhelming sadness and anxiety about what the future held. Would it always be this way? Would the death of his brother haunt him until he took his last breath? His own life flashed before his eyes as he contemplated his own mortality, knowing that eventually, he would die too. Perhaps he wanted to die. He couldn’t imagine living in a world without Fred. 

His chest was tight even thinking about it. 

“George!” 

George finally opened his eyes and turned his head back toward the Burrow. His mother was standing in the doorway, a housecoat on and her arms wrapped around her body. 

“Why don’t you come in, darling? I’ll make some tea.” 

George nodded and stood up from the ground. His knees were covered in mud, and he was soaked through to the bone. As he made his way to where his mum was standing, she opened her arms, and he fell into them just as easily as he had as a child. No matter that he was wet and dirty and barely dressed, she held him tight, her hands rubbing his back in comfort. 

“Thanks, mum,” he said, pulling away, wiping at his eyes. 

She smiled at him sadly and pulled out her wand, casting a drying charm over him. She had a blanket waiting for him and tossed it over his shoulders. “You wait in the sitting room, I’ll get you some tea and honey. That always does the trick.” 

And it did. But only temporarily. Some tea and honey and a mother’s love would never heal the empty hole in his heart. 

** _Trying hard to reach out, but when I tried to speak out, felt like no one could hear me_ **

George looked out on the pond, watching the water ripple as ducks flapped their wings. He could hear the laughter from up at the house, Harry’s birthday party in full swing. Despite the happy occasion, especially for the boy-who-lived who wasn’t expected to live past seventeen, George still felt hollow. He couldn’t find it in himself to laugh here at the party or at the shop. Because of that, he had left it in the capable hands of Lee and Ron, who kept it running day-to-day. Even if he couldn’t laugh, it didn’t mean others didn’t need to. The shop was needed now more than ever. 

“Did you think you could hide down here all evening?” 

He turned to see Hermione standing there, her mane as wild as ever as it blew in the wind. She was wearing a pair of blue jeans, and a striped tee, white tennis shoes on her feet. A smile graced her features, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. The dark circles under her eyes were the biggest tell-all that she wasn’t as okay as she was pretending to be. 

George turned back to the pond, the sun starting to set in the distance. “I thought I could try.” 

He heard her sigh. “You know, it’s okay to be happy and to lean on others in times of grief.” 

“I can’t lean on people who are trying to heal themselves. I lost my twin, but that doesn’t make anyone else’s loss any less. My mum and dad lost a son, my brothers and Ginny lost a brother.” 

“You heal together, you—” 

George shook his head and started walking back toward the house. He stopped in front of her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for trying, I know my mum put you up to this. You take care of yourself.” He could feel her eyes on his back as he made his way up to the celebration. He said congrats to Harry and left the party, disappearing into his room. 

Hours later, he heard the party-goers bid goodbye and the whoosh of the fireplace as they made their exit. He listened to the footsteps of his siblings going to their rooms, having opted to stay there after the war as well. He closed his eyes in an attempt to get some rest when there was a knock on his bedroom door. 

“Come in,” he rasped out, frowning as to who it could be. 

The door opened, and George could tell by the silhouette that it was Hermione. 

“Hey,” she said, shutting the door quietly. She stood in the middle of the room and bit her lip as she looked at him. It was a nervous habit he knew, but he continued to watch her fidget for a few more moments before speaking. 

“I thought you left with everyone else.” 

Hermione pushed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “I was going to, but I just wanted to come up here and apologize. I shouldn’t push you to grieve in any certain way, it’s just—” She shook her head and looked down at the floor, hiding her face. 

When she looked back up, he could see that several tears were falling down her cheeks. She wiped them away with a swipe of her hand. “It’s just that, I thought maybe we could be helpful to each other. We each have losses that we don’t want to talk about, but maybe—” 

“Come here,” he said, lifting up the quilt, inviting her in. She slipped off her shoes and didn’t bother to take off her jeans as she crawled in next to him. 

He wrapped his arms around her, his chin resting on top of her head. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, her hands resting on his chest. 

“You’re right, we can heal together.” He paused. “I just don’t know how. We were Fred and George, and now it’s just me...just George.” 

Hermione placed several kisses against his covered chest in response and moved her leg in between his. As her breathing evened out, he let his eyes fall shut, praying to Merlin he could get some rest. 

** _Want to feel the warm breeze, sleep under a palm tree, feel the rush of the ocean_ **

“You’re leaving?” Hermione whispered. 

He nodded and cleared his throat. “I’ve already said goodbye to my mum and the rest of the family.” He needed a change of location — something that could give him the closure he needed, and he told her so. 

Hermione wiped away a tear, and she laughed. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. Purely for selfish reasons, I’m sure.” 

George looked at her and shook his head. “You don’t have a selfish bone in your body, Hermione Granger. And this has nothing, absolutely nothing to do with you. I just need some time.” 

“I hope you’re going somewhere beautiful and just know that I understand the hurt. I will never understand what you’re going through losing a twin, but I understand enough.” 

George swallowed as Hermione walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his middle. When she pulled away, there were several wet marks on his green t-shirt from her tears. 

He brought a hand up and brushed the tears away with his thumb, his hand lingering on her cheek. “Goodbye, love.” 

“Bye,” she whispered as he pulled away. He grabbed his trunk and dragged it to the Apparition point just outside the wards of his childhood home. He didn’t look back, and with a turn of his body, he left the Burrow behind. 

After chain-apparating several times and a portkey, George landed in Fiji, on Qalito Island. It had a strong wizarding community that was out of the loop from the rest of the world. It was a new start — exactly what he needed. 

He settled in at a nearby hotel right on the water, not yet sure if this would be a permanent destination. After unpacking, he changed into swimming trunks, grabbed his shades and a towel and made his way down to the beach. Once he reached the sand, he took off his sandals and let it squish in between his toes as he walked toward the water. It was white and cool, unlike the sand in Egypt and was comforting to his sore and tired feet. 

George laid out his towel underneath a palm tree and set down his shoes. He made his way to the water, and let the warm breeze of the ocean blow his hair out of place. As the waves crashed to shore, the smell of the sea invaded his nostrils — it was a breath of fresh air. Almost as he had been drowning before and now he was living and breathing. He closed his eyes and let his senses take over. In the past months, he hadn’t taken the time to just _ be, _ and he relished in it. 

This was precisely what he needed. 

** _I’ll spread my wings and I’ll learn how to fly, though it’s not easy to tell you goodbye_ **

George had been in Fiji for several months, having found a small home to rent while he made up his mind to stay or to go. He wasn’t quite ready to move on — there was one last thing he needed to do. 

He stood underneath that palm tree he found on the first day, leaning against it leisurely, his legs crossed at his ankles. Looking toward the sky, he took a deep breath and watched the clouds. It reminded him of being young and pretending the shapes of clouds were animals. It reminded him of Fred. 

“I came here for closure, Freddie,” he said, speaking out loud. “And I think I’ve found it, but there’s just one more thing I need to do…” He paused. “And that is not to say goodbye to you, because I’ll see you again.” 

He cleared his throat and continued talking. “We were meant to be pranksters since the day we were born, why else were we born on the greatest day of the entire year, April Fools? We were together for everything — the experimenting and explosions, ditching Hogwarts and becoming businessmen. And now? Well, now, I don’t even know what to do. I feel like there is this hole in my heart that I don’t think will ever close, but I think with time, it might dull a bit.” 

George squeezed his eyes tight as the tears began to fall. “I just don’t know how to live without you, but...I think I can try.” 

The wind started to blow, and George swore it was his brother telling him to go, to live his life, and to laugh a lot because that is what they loved to do. 

“You’re right, as always. But don’t tell anyone that.” 

He smiled at the sky and whispered, “See you later, Freddie. I love you.” As he continued to reminisce about his brother and their good times, George felt a hand on his shoulder. 

He looked down and saw clear fingernails and long, feminine fingers. He grabbed onto the hand that was offering comfort and turned around. 

“Hermione,” he said in greeting, a smile crossing his face. 

“George,” she breathed, smiling in return. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to see your smile. I’ve missed it.” 

“And I’ve missed you.” George then dropped her hand and pulled her into his arms, lifting her off of the ground. He spun her around several times as she laughed before he set her back down. His hands came to rest on her hips, her hands on his forearms. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” 

“Yeah,” he said, looking toward the sky. “I did.” He looked back at Hermione, who continued to smile. Unlike before, the smile reached her eyes. “It looks like you did too.” 

“I did.” She bit her lip, and he watched as her eyes darted to his lips. 

“I think Fred would be happy with a little more love and laughter in the world, don’t you think?” 

“I couldn’t agree more.” 

George moved his hands from her waist and cupped her cheeks. With a brief look into her chocolate eyes, he pressed his lips to hers. It was soft and gentle, and his stomach did a little flip. As he pulled away, she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him in for another. He could get drunk off of her kisses — they were passionate, soft, and full of promise for the future. 

** _But gotta keep movin’ on, movin’ on, fly away, breakaway_ **


End file.
